Put me in, coach
Despite the fact that the wrong Bay Area team is in the World Series, I spent last night partying with GianttsFanzen and pouring liquor directly onto my brain while yelling "ooooooooooooooowwww!" repeatedly. That's what sporting fandom is all about, when you boil it down. I'm no GianttsFanzen by any stretch of the imagination, but I've never lived in a town (or near one) that has had a team in the World Series, and the atmosphere in SF right now is a hell of a lot of fun to be a part of. If the Giants figure out how to keep the Angels in single-digits and can win three more, it is going to be partytime up in here, no doubt.
What I really want to write about is the following:
Last night, splat in the middle of my liver-thrashing session, I went outside for a small visit to Flavor Country. I walked outside and looked to the right. There, I saw a man. This man was wearing a Giants cap, an orange t-shirt with "Giants" written on the front of it, a large crucifix medallion, black baseball pants with an orange stripe down the side, stirrup socks and turf shoes. He was a big man -- I'd say about 6'3'' and 250 lbs.
He also wore a black baseball glove and had a baseball.
He was: Warming up in the imaginary bullpen, shadow-pitching the ball to an invisible catcher.
He looked: Determined yet nonchalant; confident but not cocky.
He seemed to be: A right-handed middle-reliever.
I'm pretty sure: He was trying to get discovered by some roving Giants scout.
I watched him shadow-pitch for about 3 minutes. After that, I guess he felt he was warm, because he ducked inside for another drink as I walked in the bar. He bumped into me and I turned around.
"Nice hat," he said, pointing at my Aes cap. "Too bad they choked." He chortled.
"Thanks," I said.
I'm not one to argue with a pro ballplayer. Color me awestruck.
The Internet Is Dead
On the day of what is being called the
largest ever attack on the Internet, I hereby decree that the Internet is dead. Dead in the sense that it has ceased to be the panacea that we all hoped it would be. Rather it has been relegated to the dustbin of human advancements along with such quantum leaps as the telephone and the television. We are used to it. We no longer have a love affair with it. We are a bored lover craning our necks at newer conquests as we drive down the boulevard of progress, all the while our jealous commonplace companion, the Internet, pretends not to notice. Advice to all currently employed in the Internet business: your jobs will be likened to a telephone operator. Your skills are already quantified. You are a commodity. You have nothing new to offer. Find something new for which to be an early adopter.
What the Hell is that Yellow Spot?
The Honey Beehive is a bar in San Diego that boasts a large screen TV. It is infamous for its large yellow spot. I don't know what the spot is caused by, but it disturbs me. If you have any solutions for the HBH please write to them at Honey Beehive 1409 C St. San Diego or phone, (619) 702-6010.
Recipe for Disaster II
I like to bring punch to parties, usually in a big jug. It really gets a party swinging and gives me something to chit chat about, plus everyone gets hammered. Last night I went over to my friend Idel's house for dinner. She is haitian and really knows how to cook. She made a traditional Haiti chicken and a punch that knocked all of our socks off. I share the recipe with you all and I highly recommend that you bring some to your next party.
Idel's Punch
1 can frozen fruit punch
1 ginger root
2 1/2 cans water
1/2 can Meyers Rum
2 limes, quartered
Slice up the ginger root and put it in a pot with 2 1/2 cans of water (by cans I mean the cans that the punch comes in). Bring the water to a boil and simmer for 20 minutes. Strain off the ginger and pour the water into a jug. Add the frozen berry juice (Minute Maid works best, Safeway brand is also good). Add the rum and the limes. Place in refridgerator until cold. Serve over ice. Bottoms up!
People actually read this shitI find it hard to believe myself, but I found several references to our site in a casual peek around the internet today.
1)
The World Wide Rant - Wednesday, June 26, 2002: A "NEW AND IMPROVED"
PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE is put forth by the friendly folks at Lowbar Entertainment. 6:43 PM by Andy
2)
Dan and Travis call Lowbar "Drunken ramblings of four madmen...Howie Hardcore, BK Freshmilk, Captain Heinous, and Rev. Chentton Klontt."
That's it, but that's two more mentions than I expected to find.
What is it with these fucking people?So yesterday I am at a local watering (stink) hole, which I generally like, so I won't blaspheme its name here. I strike up conversation with another wayward drunk, and after discussing the A's for a few moments, the following goes down:
Guy: So what are you, anyway?Me: What do you mean?
Guy: Like German or what?Me: Oh, I'm Italian, Spanish, and Russian.
Guy: What percent?Me: Half Italian, quarter each Russian and Spanish.
Guy: Oh, so you're not a REAL Italian.What the fuck is that all about? I mean, I'm all for shitting on Irish people and stuff like that, but they make it easy by readily identifying themselves with stupid t-shirts and dumb shamrock tatoos. But I think there's something wrong when you have to ask someone what their ethnic makeup is so you can insult them about it. And, for the record, I don't consider myself Italian, and certainly don't look Italian. So I'm not a real Italian, you stupid fuck. You win.
As I was leaving, the guy also told me
"I'm going to see Star Wars again tonight, are you booking?" Maybe he was just crazy.
Fuck him.
Recipe for Disaster
Captain Heinous : how r the brownies?
Howie Hardcore: ha, they were goooood
Howie Hardcore: if you ever get some weed that's kind of old and you don't want to smoke it here's what you do...
Howie Hardcore: get some brownie mix
Howie Hardcore: figure out how much butter should go in it
Howie Hardcore: put that butter in a pan with all your weed and about two cups of water
Howie Hardcore: bring it to boil and then simmer for about an hour
Howie Hardcore: strain off the weed and keep the liquid in tupperware container
Howie Hardcore: throw the spent weed away
Captain Heinous : smoke the spent weed?
Howie Hardcore: nah throw it away
Howie Hardcore: put the liquid in a refrigerator
Howie Hardcore: when butter is a solid again pour off the water and then use the butter to make brownies or whatever
Howie Hardcore: you'll thank me as you are stoned for about 20 hours
Captain Heinous : nice
Captain Heinous : only prob is i never have weed i dont wanna smoke
Howie Hardcore: yeah, I grew some a long time ago so I had a bunch left over
Captain Heinous: its 4:00
H R Screwlack: nyeh
Captain Heinous: cheee noooo neee enoooo neeee NOOO
I Got Laid Off Today
I got laid off today from Plumtree Software where I was a Sales Engineer. I knew something was up when I got a cryptic e-mail from my boss on Friday... "Howie come see me at 9am on Monday." This caused me to mildly stress about my job. I spent the weekend wondering what if I got fired. Drinking helped. As I was walking to work I got a call from my boss, "Howie, can you come in a little earlier." Seems he was anxious to give me the axe. I walked in to his office and there was an HR woman whom I'd never met before sitting down. She introduced herself. My boss started, "The company had a bad quarter and we're having a reduction in force (RIF). Your name came up and you're part of it." I smiled. "I gotta say, you're taking this quite well," He said. "It's not personal." I said. "No it's not." said the HR lady I'd never met before. Then they went into all of the things they owe me and all of the things I owe them. The question of stock options came up. I said with pride that I bought all my options (now worth a measly $2.50) and that I had been an employee for three years. They seemed somewhat stunned by that. Both of them have been with the company less than a year. Not that three years is all that much but in terms of a software company it is a long time. My boss escorted me out of the building. "I'm really sorry about this." He said. "Don't worry about it."I replied. I was even starting to surprise myself. I think I was going for the Academy Award of how to be nice as people are murdering you. I'd make a good Englishman, stiff upper lip and all. I'm surprisingly calm for what just happened. I've seen acquaintences of mine take it a bit harder when they got laid off. I'm sort of relieved actually. Kind of like during a really long game of Monopoly and you finally go bankrupt and now you're free to go play outside and not sit there getting pummeled by the guy with hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place. Maybe now the reoccuring dreams consisting of hotel rooms and airplanes will stop. Maybe I can focus on being what I truly want to be, an artist. Maybe I'll learn something completely new and be grateful that the economy sucks and therefore I was given the opportunity. Who knows. What I don't want to do is run right out and do exactly the same thing somewhere else. That would be somehow missing the point I think.
